


The Triumph of Experience

by RamblingFool (morosophe)



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Rape/Non-con, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Episode: s03e07 Of Vice and Men, Episode: s03e09 Spit and Eggs, Gen, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-06
Updated: 2006-12-06
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:14:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morosophe/pseuds/RamblingFool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica's POV after being drugged in episodes 3.07, "Of Vice and Men," and 3.09, "Spit and Eggs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Triumph of Experience

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written in response to the objection regarding Veronica's judgment raised by Couch Baron in his recap of 3.07, "Of Vice and Men." (The recap can be found [here](http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/show/veronica-mars/of-vice-and-men/), but it appears that only the first page is still working.) He argues that if Veronica's coherent enough to realize she's been drugged, she should be coherent enough to go to the food court with lots of people instead of to the empty parking lot, where she can easily be assaulted. My take on it is slightly different.

I trip a little, going down the stairs, and suddenly the world tilts and whirls, familiar/unfamiliar to my eyes. _I know this feeling, I can't believe this is happening to me... again..._ although that hair should have warned me, close kin to Madison Sinclair's saliva.

 _I've got to get away,_ I think, as the streetlight starts doing the broomsticks' dance from  Fantasia, _I've got to get home--get to Dad--get away from everybody--_

...because I know what happens next, I've been here before, and people are dangerous, people don't care/hate you-- **It's him!** \--/aren't in control of themselves either, and even though I know I'm not going to make it, I've still got to lurch towards my car, _a Saturn for a Mars! Hee!_ because you can't trust anyone anymore, can't show weakness (they'll only ever attack, you have to get tough geteven) but Dad'll make it all better, but then I fall down and fumble with my keys, hitting the panic button accidentally/on purpose, and the little haze that came out a few seconds ago from behind my eyelids invites me to join in the dance...

* * *

Dad and Logan want me to drink something, but I don't want it/I hate feeling helpless/it tastes nasty/you can't always trust ~~Logan's~~ drinks. But Dad's the one with the drink, so it's safe, right? (Nine out of ten guys would have done the same thing, and maybe it's an improvement that he's now one of the nine, instead of the tenth guy he used to be, who would fiddle while the motel burned, who would organize and film bum fights, goad people to their worst over my prostrate body...) And then Logan makes some joke--helping me stay tough, 'cause that's the way to get past this, I know this part for sure--and it makes swallowing the next spoonful a little easier, and I can think a little better. By the end of the night, I might even come up with some moral for the evening, pigeonholing it in some neat little box that says "Past experience: lesson learned," so I can move on.

* * *

This time it starts up a little slower, and I'm actually ready for it, and it still takes me by surprise, and there's still that little echo somewhere screaming, "You're going to lose something again," like my memories like my judgment like my virginity like my trust in humanity (like Logan, who lost his confidence in me)...

But this time (it's like everything is backwards), that doesn't happen, because when I've tried Dad (still the first resort) and the hammer I remember the whistle and it may not be a car alarm but maybe I can still make enough noise to reach ~~Logan~~ somebody who's not the nine out of ten or the tenth either...

...and I do and it's Parker and she is, not the nine out of ten nor the tenth who together make up the ninety-eight who would walk over my corpse for free gum, but that hundredth/thousandth/millionth person who will run to help an unknown victim (because I failed her before I let myself know her, and so she had to get tough--no, get **strong** , and she's finding out she really can be), and this time, everything really is backwards, because not only has she gained something from the experience but so have I, a tiny little sliver of the faith in general humanity that I laughed at her for so long ago (was it only yesterday?) because I lost it over two years ago at Shelley Pomroy's end-of ~~-my-childhood~~ -the-year party.

 _As an added bonus,_ I think, _this time I may even have a chance of remembering the experience._

**Author's Note:**

> Events and quotes have been taken from various episodes of Veronica Mars. I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars, except as an admirer. No copyright infringement is intended. Title is a subversion of Samuel Johnson's definition of second marriages, "The triumph of hope over experience."


End file.
